Spinning Your Wheels On The Open Road
by HalfshellVenus1
Summary: All-dialogue Michael & Lincoln Gen fic: Stuck in the car with Michael for hours, is it a road trip, or more of a road TRAP?


Title: **Spinning Your Wheels On The Open Road**  
Author: HalfshellVenus  
Character: Michael and Lincoln (**Gen, Humor**)  
Rating: K+  
Summary: Stuck in the car with Michael for hours: road trip, or is it more of a road _trap?_  
Author's Notes: This is the "all-dialogue-fic" entry for the Live Journal **PB Fic Survivor** challenge #8, set post-escape in Season 2." Also for my **prisonbreak100 **claim of Lincoln and Michael Genfic, this is #77, "What?" for obvious reasons.

x-x-x-x-x

"Think of something, Lincoln—anything you want."

"I'm already thinking of something. It's called _driving_—that's how we keep from crashing."

"Ha-ha-ha. No, seriously."

"I thought you said we needed to hurry, Michael—get to Utah and get the money, before the Feds catch onto where we are."

"This doesn't change anything about that, because we'll still be driving. Think of it as entertainment."

"_Football's_ entertainment. This is more like work."

"Lincoln…"

"Okay, okay. What was it again?"

"Think of something! And then I'll guess…"

"Right. Um, okay, uh—got it."

"Really?"

"Yes, Michael, really! Are you going to guess or not?"

"Animal, vegetable, or mineral?"

"Define 'mineral.'"

"Something that isn't animal or vegetable."

"Whatever. Okay, then: mineral."

"Is it bigger than a breadbox?"

"What the hell's a breadbox anyway? I've always wondered about that."

"A box people used to keep bread in, Lincoln—what's it sound like? Geez. And you didn't answer the question."

"Oh. Yeah—bigger than a breadbox."

"Fine. Is it smaller than a refrigerator?"

"Ha! Yeah, Michael, it is. Are you trying to tell me something? Because I see a McDonald's ahead..."

"Jesus, Lincoln, will you focus? It's not even lunchtime."

"It's this fugitive lifestyle—it's making me hungry."

"Maybe we'll stop in a couple of hours, go to a drive-through. Meanwhile, I've got seventeen more questions left."

"God, seventeen?"

"Yes. Let's keep going: is it disposable?"

"Not so much."

"Does it come in different colors?"

"…"

"Lincoln?"

"..."

"Lincoln!"

"What? That truck was coming into my lane."

"You didn't answer the question. Does it come in different colors?"

"Kind of. Maybe."

"Huh. Did you actually pick something? Do you even know what it _is?_"

"Yes, Michael, of course I know what it is!"

"Okay, okay. Um… Does it go inside other things?"

"What? What does that even mean? Like, _regularly_, or is the question, _can_ it go inside other things?"

"Regularly."

"Nope, not really. Ready to give up?"

"Gee, Lincoln what do you think? After only five questions."

"All right, all right."

"So. Can you use it?"

"Definitely."

"Okay, would you give it as a gift?"

"Ha-ha-ha!"

"I'll take that as a _No_, then. Is it something you can wear?"

"Not on purpose."

"Most people just answer _Yes _or _No_, Lincoln."

"I thought you said this was entertainment."

"For _me_ right now, not for you! It'll be entertaining when it's your turn!"

"God, you're touchy. Need to stop at a bathroom? There's a rest-stop coming up."

"No, Lincoln, I'm fine—I'm not five, for crying out loud. So, is this thing mechanical?"

"Yes."

"Is it in this car?"

"_Yes._"

"Lincoln! I knew you weren't really trying!"

"So you're giving up?"

"No—and stop asking that. Uh… is it round?"

"Yes."

"Can you… wait, it's the steering wheel, isn't it? It _is!_ God, that's lame—couldn't you have tried even a _little_ bit harder?"

"I said I was concentrating on driving, Michael! What did you expect? The Eiffel Tower?"

"Something _not_-lame, that's for sure."

"Fine, whatever. It was your idea, anyway."

"Yes, well, it's just that… I mean, I wanted to… Okay, you know what? Never mind— let's just keep going. It's your turn now to guess what I'm thinking."

"Besides pissed-off?"

"Yes, Lincoln! I've already decided on something—guess what it is."

"I'm trying to drive, Michael. I can't be focusing on two things at once."

"Well then, we can try something a little closer to your speed: _I spy with my little eye—_"

"Michael…"

"_—something that is crabby_."

"Hey!"

"Ow! Geez, Lincoln—no hitting!"

"You know what, Michael? I think it's your turn to drive now. I'm pulling over."

"Lincoln…"

"I'm serious. I need a nap."

"So what am I supposed to do?"

"You'll be too busy dodging tumbleweeds and station-wagons to worry about it."

"Fine. Have your nap."

"I will. And Michael?"

"What."

"You can wake me when the desert's over…"

_-------- fin -------_


End file.
